Glass
by Misdiagnosed Ghost
Summary: "What separates you and I – is glass. Are we not the same, hunter?" (Monster Falls AU) Tad Strange x Mabel Pines
1. Chapter 1

**Glass**

" _What separates you and I – is glass. Are we not the same, hunter?" (Monster Falls AU)_

 _Tad Strange x Mabel Pines_

 **Monsters who wear human flesh.**

 **Epilogue**

An old boat rocks to the gentle sway of lulling currents; the moon hangs heavy over reflecting lake shores. Tales are shared between two brothers: one bears a crooked smile, while the other is indifferent; his knuckles are white from holding the fishing line, fingers curled in and greedily wanting – waiting for a trophy. He smells of blood and fresh ammunition, smothered ash and churned earth. Delirious eyes hidden under a bower-cut hairstyle, and he grits his teeth to the bear feeling of tugging at his lines.

"You're real hell-bent on catching this one," The one who smiles, leers - looming close and haunting space; he bites at the end of his Virginia Slim, embers making out the ghostly silhouette of his features. Stale blood clings to the fingers of his glove, but he doesn't mind when he pulls the cigarette out from between his thin and crooked lips. "Never been partial to aquatic life – not if you plan for a little fish-fry. Me? Well, I've always been fond of a nice rack."

"I plan to keep this one," The other brother simply states, keeping poise to his hunting technique. His stance is like stone – an expression to match, and a personality that could never be misplaced. One demon exchanges pleasantries, while the other is bound to silence. Their situation is hypocritical: demons hunting monsters. But in a perfect world – a perfect definition – just who are the true monsters in Gravity Falls? Still, no man is created equal. In the end, people are always knocking at the door to their own shallow grave. "She's young. Impressionable. She hasn't learned the ways of man-eating mermaids."

"You're going to need one damn big fish tank," The brother who smiles too much laughs, jubilant and evil; he's the wolf who hides amongst the pasture: preying, gnawing the wool from over his eyes, sweetly calling sheep to play his little game of chase and follow. He only finds love in the thick perfume of iron, and a freshly fired bullets. Enraptured to the steady hum of ragged lungs and cradled crying.

"I've planned ahead."

"Creepy. I like that. Let's catch our prize and terminate the rest. What's the point of genocide if you don't have anyone to tell the misfortune to?"

The brother in blue said nothing; he projected nothing. He didn't mind the killing, the extinction to a race who could never touch his. The demon is lonely; he's been watching his prize for years, hidden behind the parallels of the Fabric of Time. He only agreed to his brother's madness if he could reap something in return: a friend.

For who could trust a demon who dabbled in bets?


	2. Chapter 2

**Glass**

" _What separates you and I – is glass. Are we not the same, hunter?" (Monster Falls AU)_

 _Tad Strange x Mabel Pines_

 **Be careful if they are too friendly**

 **I**

A twig snaps, and Dipper quickly jolts from his perch; fingers pressed to bark, listening to the ominous singing and chattering of birds. He pauses his movements – keeping his wicker basket filled with dogwood flowers pressed to his ribcage. He scans his surroundings, swallowing once out of impulse, then silently chuckles to himself – damning his fawn instincts in wanting to flee. However, he can't shake the feeling of being watched.

He waits, slowly taking in his surroundings before he continues his meaningful task; fingers brush over white petals, quickly pulling them from their beds. His hoof digs into rich, churned earth, and the feeling of peace is almost intoxicating. He hums, inquisitively turning over a plant, wondering if this would be something that Mabel would enjoy. She did ask for flowers, after all, and never did quite clarify to which family of plant she yearned for the most.

Dipper shrugs, carefully placing his findings with the rest in his basket.

It has been six years since he's felt human, a distant memory of running on two legs seemed like a complete anomaly; the end of time is nipping, and slowly reality does begin to fade. The skies are not as blue anymore, and finding flowers for Mabel was almost impossible; but there's always flowers on her shore, pretty little petals stained purple and bled dark, thorns enwrapping the bud like an engagement ring. The flowers are unidentifiable, and while Dipper worries about their existence, Mabel finds nothing malicious about the gesture that roots from nature: just a few human hunters, who haven't had a drop of Gravity Falls' water, trying to appease to the rumored mermaid of the lake.

It started with the water supply – that's how the two notorious dream demons first dropped the rapture. Mabel always did mention that the water tasted funny, saying it almost tasted bitter. However, the twins merely wrote it off as the pipes in house are old – and erosion only added flavor. Grunkle Stan is a cheap man, after all. And repairing something – that would cost him a good amount – didn't seem worth it. Spending was a mere luxury.

Communication to the outside world is an abstract subject; the news station buzzes, and radios refused to turn on. Dipper tried, frantically, calling his parents once the changes occurred, and once Mabel completely lost her ability to live on land, Dipper felt completely helpless in this timeless paradox. This Pandora-effect phenomenon. It was like Gravity Falls was in its own forgotten world, its own drifting island, and the only time outsiders came around - it was only for the sole purpose of the mighty hunt, claiming a monster as their prize, or their pet.

There was no way to contact the outside world; he has lost six years of his life, his childhood, to the call of demons' selfish games. He hasn't heard from his parents in so long. He wonders, in this horrid world, if they were still alive among the cattle – forgetting about them and the pinpoint of Gravity Falls.

Dipper sighs, asserting his stance and pulling himself from his thoughts, he quickly sets out to bring his findings to his sister.

I

By the shore, the lake plays the mirror – reflecting the moon and carrying it in small swells. Dipper stands in his usual meeting spot, clamoring over the wooden dock with hooved clicks. At the end of the dock, he places his basket down by the edge. He waits for a moment, before he works the nerve to grip at the chain that garnished his neck; twiddling the whistle that adorn his hollow throat, he brings the cool metal to his lips and blows once. And so he waits again in the stillness of harsh night, listening to the gentle _whoo_ of an owl leering near. This was all far too forlorn.

Dipper doesn't have to wait long till he sees a goofy grin in the shallow, haunting depths of the lake. He can see the flow of floating hair follow, and an oddly placed giggle echo off the waters. Mabel's fingers grip the beams of the dock, hoisting herself forward to catch a better look at her brother. There's something enchanting to Mabel's movement, but that was the mere art of a mermaid – even if they didn't mean to allure those to their watery graves.

"Dipper!" Mabel uses her upper body strength to pull herself completely up the dock, accepting her brother's help with the slide of hand; she keeps her tail submerged, while the rest laid out on the dock with a silly huff. "How's it hangin', bro-bro? Give me a minute. Have to catch my breath."

"Snapping turtles, again?" Dipper inquires, slowly kneeling down to his sister's height. "I told you Mabel, you can't make friends with everyone."

"But the turtle I've been following just laid eggs, Dipper! Eggs! You know me, trying to be a good neighbor in the lake, I thought, "I bet Ms. Snappers wouldn't mind if I cleaned her hatchlings while she's away." Wrong! Dipper, did you know turtles can swim fast? I just wanted to get into watching that baby-hatching action."

"It took you six years of living in the lake to finally catch on?"

"Psst," Mabel waves off her brother's mockery. "Now I got one angry neighbor on my side of the lake; she always tries to latch on to my tail when I swim by." She snorts, keeping her plastered little grin. She sits up, tail flicking across the water's surface.

"Is that for me?" Mabel finally asks, catching the sight of the basket her brother laid out on her drying dock.

"They're always for you, Mabel. You're the one who asks for them."

"There's nothing pretty about watching algae grow off the sides of rocks, Dipper. You should try it. Trust me. It's boring. You got a whole forest to explore. Me? Well, I can always scout for the prettiest pebbles at the bottom of the lake." Mabel makes lite on her situation, clammy fingers sorting through the display of withering flowers and broken stems. The end of the world wasn't the best for finding exotic plant life, but she tried to cherish whatever her brother brought her per request. Though, the quantity and quality was rapidly diminishing, and soon, there will be no more flowers for Dipper to pick for her.

"You know I've been itching to take you on one of our classic adventures," Dipper consoles, pulling a smile of his own – even if the curve didn't catch his eyes just right. He wanted to appear happy when he visited his sister. "These were the best I could find."

"And they are worth it!" Mabel beams, leaning forward, her fingers dive in to study every plant. "And, maybe, one day we'll fix this whole mess and return to our old lives, right? Gotta have faith in a world like this."

Their little reunion is cut short with the booming effect of an echoing shotgun; with a gasp, Mabel quickly dips off the dock seamlessly, submerging herself amongst the swell of stagnate waters – pulling Dipper's basket along with her. Dipper flinches, hooves stumbling, he jolts from his perch and dashes for the brush of darkening forest.

 **I**

"Do you find no shame in your hunting technique? Stalking takes time – learning about your prey is the most sufficient way to retrieve two prizes for the price of one hunt."

"I always thought a meaningless problem could be settled with a damn-good bullet, or a sloppy blood ritual. Mass murder works well enough, too. But I guess I was wrong, brother," Bill mocks, and Tad can find the lie in his argument. Tad doesn't like the way that Bill holds his gun towards the prey, pretending as if to shoot them both. His mockery was a damning thing, but Tad subsides his own annoyance by gritting his teeth. "Of course, you're always right."

He patiently watches the siblings exchange pleasantries, each one finding a reason to laugh. He found their laughing an oddity – how could one find joy in being the lesser of the species? The creatures meant to die at the end of a gun, or by mortality.

 _Siblings._ Tad watches the interactions between the twins with much interest; where they are born of blood and bone and a mother's touch, he and his brother was pulled from void and smothered nightmares, ripped by burning embers and suffocating ash. They simply came to be. Full of hatred and unjust vengeance, they filled the minds of humans with benevolent nightmares, and ominous prophecies; they've enlightened great kings with fear and madness, and caused a plague to wipe out civilizations.

"Remember Vlad Dracul?" Bill cuts Tad from his thoughts, a hollow-point grin set into motion. With that single, haunting eye, Bill watches his brother turn to finally face him.

"What about him?"

"Well, you were criticizing my hunting technique, but let me remind you just _who_ implanted that meat-bag king with the brilliant idea of impaling his enemies; I'd say my hunting approach to the lesser is quite spot-on."

"The man roasted children, whom he fed to their mothers; he cut off the breasts of women, and forced their husbands to eat them. After that, he had them all impaled, Bill. You're hunting without dignity. I hunt for prize."

"Well, the man had done one right thing: he killed his brother by pushing molting spikes into his eyes; that's something even the Devil could admire. Speaking of the Devil, why haven't we visited Hell this year? I heard it's quite lovely at this time – still frozen over, and the lost are still mourning." Bill gives his brother the most sadistic look, sharp teeth clenched and hungry. A morbid laugh follows.

"Hey brother, watch this," Bill finally stands from his hiding spot. Shotgun pointed heavenward, he cocks the mechanism and releases a single shot in the air. From down the hill, the siblings jolt from their spots, splitting off out of fear. Smoke pools from the demon's barrel, and it is for certain that the twins can hear Bill's malleolus laugh over the hills – following them as they go.

Tad is strained, furious, but his anger is hidden well behind his thin lips.

 **I**

He stands by the shore, sand and muck clinging to his boots. Abstract nature slowly pulling in the autumn season, leaving summer to reflect on its deathbed. Northern downpour riddles the lake's surface, calming gentle ripples that separates with a sweet sound; the moon is masked with dark, churning clouds, lulling in a sense that it almost makes him sleepy. Which, to Tad Strange, is a foreign emotion, indeed.

He admires the lake and what it stands for – holding his prize with extreme care, save for the turtle he knows that stalks her in the deep. While he knows everything about her, she has no idea _what_ he is; she knows of him, he's sure. She flees from every fishing attempt he's pulled on her, every time she catches him trailing the shores of her lake. Plain fear marring dark eyes, a hollow gasp coming from her bare chest, escaping from a trembling lip.

Her brother tells her to fear him, and Tad shows no ill-feelings towards her brother for that. It is true. She should be afraid.

He haunts the shore with blooded transgressions, slowly dropping to his knees to unfold his long-giving trap. He prides himself on patience, a gloved hand smoothing out the sands with care. Where he could conquer hell and horrid nightmares by his touch, tonight he serves a different purpose. A glorifying one.

Smothered, his palm moves over the sand, bringing to life a different breed of flower; lovely greenery tickles the underside of his palm, and by demonic power, the petals slowly bleed out a light and illuminating violet. His gift is considered few, but he knows that Mabel won't be able to help herself when she drags herself up upon the shores, nails digging into earth and farther away from the arms of the lake, just so she could indulge the texture of a life who would sooner wither away.

He won't strike tonight, or tomorrow. No. He takes his time – believing to be better than his brother's honed skin of snatch and steal. Mabel's naïve – in a sense; her rose-colored glasses much too big for her damning reality. He wants her comfortable, unaware before he snatches her and claims her. And once the time comes, and his hunger of companionship has been fed – he will help destroy the rest.

He enjoyed the game of waiting.

 **I**

Mabel grins into the mysterious petals of purple left at the shores of her lake, sunbathing under hooded and churned skies, her tail lapped with the gentle hum of the lake. The morning has been pleasant enough for her, indulging on raw fish and pulling pedals slowly away. She absently wonders when her brother will come around so she could return his basket to him.

She finds time to worry and finds time to relax under God-given autumn warmth; the smell of kindling hickory wood flooding the air. One by one, she snaps the stems of her beautiful flowers, dew-kissed and fragrant, braiding the stems in thick, dark hair. Her mermaid instincts nibbles away at her ego, vanity coming to her like a favored emotion.

She stares into the mirror of her lake, admiring the way purple clashed with dark brown. Slender fingertips tracing around shiny pebbles and fishing line that garnished her neck, decorative across bare breast. She can't hold back her smile over how pleased she felt.

But she feels watched. She always feels watched.


	3. Chapter 3

**Glass**

" _What separates you and I – is glass. Are we not the same, hunter?" (Monster Falls AU)_

 _Tad Strange x Mabel Pines_

 _ **When we all burned. You were there.**_

 _ **II**_

Mabel waits by the shore; hands pressed to murky, shallow depths, stomach pressed low to the ground. She claws herself closer to land, fingers toiling away at slipping sands and rolled over rocks. The top of her head peeks out from the arms of the water; a curious, hazel gaze watching the opening of the forest. Watching. Waiting. She hasn't seen her brother in four days, and that terrifies her to no end. However, Tad Strange feels more than welcomed to flood her space, her dock with his presences. Anger is foreign to Mabel, but it usually came quickly when it involved Tad.

She wonders if the demon is toying with her at this point. Preying upon her for the past six years. He's never spoken to her, never called out to her while she leveled the waters wanting to catch a glimpse of the sun after a long day of not being able to emerge. She's never seen his eyes, hidden away by chopped hair, and that's what terrifies her the most about this hunter. Bill screamed his threats quite proudly, made it known he was going to devour your soul with a side of wine. But not his brother; she pondered if that made him all the more evil.

Tad never voiced his motive. He only sat on her deck, threading fishing line through his hook and pole, dangling it over her lake's waters. Mabel knew that he knew he wouldn't be able to catch her by mere fishing line alone. It was just something else apart of his game – eluding to something he hasn't quite showed yet. This is how he threatened her.

Mabel pulls back from the shore, hands pushing her away and deeper into her watery home. Curious and innocent eyes never leaving his lanky figure – studying his slow movements of him dangling his legs off the pier carelessly. He could see her just like she could see him, but he posed no signal to catching her. Even while she occupied the land closes to shore.

There's a moment of defying anger, mal hatred; Mabel emerges a little higher in her waters, tail flicking to keep her afloat, and she screams, "Go away! I don't want you here! Just go!" She's angry at herself for not biting the better end of her monster evolution, bound to a lake that surrounds her from all sides. She feels complete fear that her brother is on land, alone, running from a madman who also wishes to claim his rites. She hasn't had decent conversation in a long time besides her brother, and even now, the hopes of him being free and out of danger seemed slim.

That siren side of her rings in her ears, and she wishes the end to the demon who crowds her hunting grounds. Still, even with her outburst, it proved to be unmoving. Tad only lifted his head by an inch and looked directly at her. Mabel quickly sunk to the bottom.

 **II**

Horror claws at his back; he threads the maze of the forest that he's memorized quite fondly, dashing through stilled puddles of mud and abandoned trucks of trees left over to rot. Dipper's chest heaves, prancing as far as his nomadic-creatures legs would carry him. But he can still hear the demon – taunting him, enjoying himself while he chased him to the ends of the forest.

"Always the good sport, Pine Tree," A laugh follows, ghostly and harsh; his cackle almost hurts the bones in Dipper's body, and he wonders, morbidly, when Bill will finally kill him. "Don't play hard to get – that's supposed to be my job! You humans for years always wanted to get ahold of me, but look at you! Jumping away from the opportunity of truly knowing me!"

Vexation lines his whimsical voice, and Dipper can't quite pinpoint the exact location Bill's coming from; he seemed all over the place, around, and almost at his back. The faun fights through exhaustion and riddled fear, brushing past swinging branches, and curling thorn that tore through delicate flesh; wounds stung against the open air, but Dipper's adrenaline ate at him too much to truly care about now – it was his future he feared.

"Six years is a long time in human terms; so fragile and weak. Are you going to cry, Pine Tree? It's OK. I won't tell a soul." Bill's playful voice bites at the hairs of Dipper's neck, and it spurs him on to run faster, to push his unnatural limits. The sides of Dippers eyes burned, and he tried his best to swallow his frustration – even when a demon was sizing up his weakness, it would be a matter of time. "Hah! You're the only soul around!"

Dipper's dash is cut short by the piercing sound of a penetrating bullet, forceful entry shoving one side of his body forward; the wound burns with heat – leaving him to trample over vining and decomposing bark. His back thigh ached, warm blood staining fur, but Dipper fought to crawl his way through the pain, sinking his fingers down in the soil to hoist himself forward. His teeth clench, body heavy with exasperation. Oh, Mabel will be all alone.

Heavy ominous boots snaps over tree branches, Bill taking his time to reach the young faun. "No need to worry, Pine Tree. You can tell me all your secrets. I won't mind." Dipper painfully turns, watching Bill come into view, hands laden with a powerful caliber and rope; a dangerous, sharp smile pulled over neatly.

Bill swings his heavy rifle over his back, crouching down to catch a better look at his trophy, and when Dipper tried to pull away, Bill was quick to snatch the boy by his antlers and turn his full attention back on him. Demons are possessive and hell-driven, Bill showed nothing less in the way he handled his wounded hunt.

"You're a reasonable young buck," Bill mocks, "Bit of a smartass, but that's how I like 'em." Dipper cringes under the hunter's weight, suffocated by his lack of space. Bill has no concept in human pain and urgency, and with shock, Dipper's world was forcefully ripped from under him.

 **II**

Tad looks up from his fireplace when he hears the dreadful sound of a door being swung off its hinges, and his brother's maniacal laughter which echoed when he entered their shared, tiny cabin in the woods. Boots click off wooden floors, creaking under excited weight, the door slams back shut. Tad stays in place, one hand crossed over the other, legs crossed; he's not amused to Bill's muffled victory. He knew why Bill came in so late. He knew the Pines' boy was unwilling accompanying his brother. Still, the demon who dabbled in bets showed no remorse when he saw Bill strode in front of him, blocking the heat of his fireplace, with a faun draped over his shoulders; busted and bloody and left unconscious, submerged in dark sleep.

"Guess who caught their trophy first," Bill started, sing-song and boastful.

"Your prize is bleeding out," Tad added, unaffected to the sight of constant, dripping blood ruin his rug. Bill crouches in front of his brother, sliding Dipper off his shoulders with a shrug; the faun's position is unnatural due to the tightness of his bindings, face tilted towards him – he looked innocent.

"Aw. Don't be like that. I know you're jealous that I caught mine first – even after you berated my hunting technique – but you don't have to comment on the appearance of my trophy. Shooting Star isn't all grand, either." Bill straightens his posture, hands patting at the sides of his hip, looking for the shape of his cigarette box. Once he locates his smokes, he pulls one out – only to look over his shoulder for a split second to see the stale, russet blood stain his hunting attire. "Damn, the kid got my favorite shirt dirty."

Tad doesn't move, the lining of his lips tugging south, "Bill, the boy is going to die. Fix him up if you wish to continue to gloat about your prize." The demon moves his shoe away from the lifeless body, "And move him. Do you know how hard it is to wash blood out of carpets?"

"You're pretty full of yourself for a demon beneath his own brother," Once Bill lights his drag, he inhales and waves his hand in front of him, blowing smoke in Tad's direction. "A'ight. I'll patch the meat-bag up, and when he awakes, you better be here. I want to gloat some more when Pine Tree's more aware."

 **II**

It has been two months since the disappearance of her brother. It has been two months since anyone has spoken to her. Not even Tad haunted her pier, and that made her all the more aware that her end was coming near.

Mabel nestles at the bottom of the lake, waiting out the harshness of Gravity Falls' winter. She opens and closes her mouth, watching tiny air bubbles escape her lips and travel up, disappearing once it hit the water's surface. She runs her fingers through the ghostly movement of her dark hair, strands escaping her tender grasp, floating aimlessly around the crown of her head. With sea-eyes, she watches the morning sun approach, breaking through the barrier of the lake's stagnant and calm waters.

With morning approaching, she's reminded to check for the purple flowers by her shores. She's so deprived from the outside world that she belittles herself for being so excited over freshly grown flowers – even if cut through the snow, and survived the winter blast. Mabel, at this point, was starting to consider her situation a mere dream, a terrible illusion the dream demon brothers cast upon her. She'll wake up any moment – hearing Grunkle Stan's loud snoring down the halls of the Mystery Shack, and Dipper endlessly flipping through the pages of his book, muttering to himself over the next adventure they would partake on.

Mabel closes her eyes, gills filtering in her water intake. The flowers will have to wait. It's too cold for her, and she's far too gone to truly care about her wellbeing. The movement of fish swims over her skin, relaxing into the soft bed of sand.

Mabel arises to the sound of a faint whistle, tail flicking, she shoots from her spot; she's skeptical over the timing, Dipper usually calls to her at night. But she's mindlessly excited, swimming forward till she met the base of her drying dock, climbing the wooden pole. Her hands grip the edge, using all her strength to pull her up. She honestly couldn't believe that after two months of no communication that her brother was alive and well, fighting his way to survive.

"Dipper! Oh, Dipper –," her hopes die in her throat once her fingers brush over the hard toe of a muddy boot. Mabel freezes, body half way pulled up, stricken with the revelation that her nightmare may never end, and she'll be alone forever in the dark depths of her lake, bound to the immobile body of a mermaid.

Tad's dark figure overshadows her from the sun, leaving Mabel unable to move when he slowly crouched with a silver whistle and chain threated through his gloved fingers. For the first time, Mabel finally listens to the beast speak to her, dark and hard; his words may be simple, but the gravity behind them were not.

He's white as snow, violent hair clashing his complexion. He's as graceful as a ghost – dangling her brother's whistle in front of her face. "This is your brothers."

Mabel chokes, emotions flooded and floored. Her hopes are fleeting when she sobs out in disbelief. "No," she's prepared to sink, but his hand catches her wrist, and tugs her halfway out of the water. "Let go of me! What did you do to Dipper? My brother!" Frantically, her tail curls over the pier's pole, but he jerks her up, dragging her down the wooden planks of the dock. Her free hand clenches, knuckles marred white, she prepares to strike him, but he holds her other wrist down, pinning her brother's whistle painfully against her wrist.

"You're going to need to calm down," Mabel's struggle winded him, pressing her back flat against the winter-bitten dock planks. Her tail flops from underneath him, tail slamming down with great force. He leans all his weight in one knee to restrain her; he's rather surprised by the girl's strength and her mortal will in wanting to hide and protect her life.

She's too angry to discover she's been crying, wet hair pressed to her hollow cheeks. Her gills flair out with stress, leaving Tad to calculate how much water Mabel will need on his trip back to the cabin and how aware he was to claiming her as his. It gets so lonely when the only person who would talk to him was a brother who countered opposite to all of his beliefs.

Once Mabel settles under his weight, his dreary, emotionless face staring down on her, he begins to talk again. This time, consoling her for something that was his fault. "You're alright, yes? I'm not hurting you, am I? It'll be over soon. I promise. Must be dreadfully cold at the bottom of the lake."

One hand moves to pin both of her wrist down to the dock, leaving a free hand to trace the side of her face; curious, his gloved fingers grace over freshly fallen tears. "As I thought: sea glass," Tad hums, his thumb brushing away the squeezed tears from the corner of her eyes; he pulls away to show her his findings, a dash of amusement hidden away in his plain vocal cords. "Mermaids are interesting creatures. Tears that form riches. They're pretty enough, but you don't need to cry."

Mabel ignores his suggestion, railing against his hold again, loathing the way he pressed her down; how dare an oblivious demon tell her what she can and cannot do? Tad fights to keep his hold, huffing out in frustration, "Settle down, Mabel. All will be well, I promise you."

"My brother! You killed him!" Mabel fights back, throat raw and strained; bile begins to crawl up the back of her throat, and she has to swallow it back down.

"All will be well," the demon repeats, voice falling flat. With haunted will, the palm of his hand lays over her eyes, flooding her with deep sleep. "Just go to sleep."

Dreams truly were on his side.


End file.
